Words
I don't know at what point I decided that it would be a good idea to stow a sheaf of already-old lyrics inside the notebook/sketchbook that I kept over two visits to Portugal, or at what point, fairly soon after that I'm sure, that I forgot entirely about having put them there. Earlier this evening was an interesting trip down the proverbial memory
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Comments 11
-- Write a song that intercuts three different narratives, at least one of them involving someone with a major congenital deformity who's in a position of power (president, CEO, church leader, etc.).
-- Write a song about a hot girl who only wants to get physical with you when she's drunk. Use words of six letters or fewer exclusively. Use no plurals or adverbs.
-- Write a song about being a klismaphiliac hit man, in the style of Nick Drake. Feel free to be elliptical about the klisma- part.
-- Write a song about which of your body parts you'd want to have amputated and in which order, and why.
-- Write a song about dropping small flightless animals out of propellor planes. Insinuate that this will somehow be an effective tactic against the Nazi invasion of Western Europe. Do it in old-tymey style.
-- Write a song about being the world's worst instrument repairman, and the consequences thereof.
By the way, do you have a song-poem of choice for our l'il quid pro quo ( ... )
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I was on AIM, too, but I was undercover.
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And of course they won't all suit you! That's the idea, to throw out all kinds of different stuff in the hopes of finding something that connects, that sparks. But I'd love to hear you do the small animals one, in a rollicking three. Did you see "The Incredibles" in the theatre, and if so, do you remember the short they played about the woolless sheep? That kind of rhythm, but through a gramophone.
Incognito on AIM, eh? Dodging the Eritreans again?
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This one is the most challenging and the most heartfelt prompt of them all. It's raw, and beautiful in its way, and I'm looking forward to approaching it.
All those feelings you describe are familiar to me; I lost my father years ago, when I was only 20, but the loss, the absence, the changing feelings, the inconstant memories, are all simultaneously as surreal and as clear as they were even then, in the first awful and awkward moments. The grief, though, evolves, or transmutes, or something. This line strikes me in particular:
...this real true lack in humanity to adequately or accurately express real grief, and not a projection of what we think grief should be.Maybe the concept of adequacy is in this instance the projection, and the accuracy of it, or I'd say the simple truth of it, as variable or uncommon as it may be, is our real challenge. And no, though grief is itself a sign or an expression of sadness, the act or process of grieving doesn't have to be sad; quite the contrary. Grief, to paraphrase Emerson (that's ( ... )
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